


Parallels

by ShadowstarKanada



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-05
Updated: 2007-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23661355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowstarKanada/pseuds/ShadowstarKanada





	Parallels

**Recognition**

When Wilson and Chase were about to pass each other on the third floor for the first time, they paused as

> time suddenly refuses to move forward. Chase is walking towards the elevators, and Wilson is making the somehow longer trek to an office at the end of the hall, and without saying a word, both know that neither is here for a psychiatrist's opinions on a patient.
> 
> Wilson's mouth turns in an uncertain and uneasy parody of a smile, and Chase's shoulders move back defensively as he tilts his head, and each dares the other to say the first word. They feel trapped like bugs in amber, each with a foot awkwardly positioned inches above the ground, neither able to complete nor withdraw from their last step.
> 
> "Dr. Wilson," says Chase tightly.
> 
> "Chase," says Wilson shortly.
> 
> Neither likes the immediate shock of recognition, or the burst of irrational fear that accompanies it, but they don't mention it and as they pass each other,

time resumed abruptly.

* * *

**Exes**

Foreman walked into Wilson's office twenty minutes ago. He wasn't crying, of course, because it had been his choice, but he was unjustifiably upset. Wilson's office was a perfect sanctuary: it was calm and had a pretense of stability and normalcy, like the man himself, and it was filled with the little things that made a man happy, like trophies his missing brother won, and nicknacks from dead patients, and the new bottle of Prozac everyone politely ignored, except House who didn't know yet.

Foreman was glad he'd come, even when Wilson's phone rang while they talked. Even when Wilson put up a finger and leaned back in his chair. Even when the fax machine started up. Even when Wilson hung up the phone. Even when he stared at the papers with a frown. Even when Wilson said dryly, "Well, at least I've still got the car," and threw the photograph of his ex-wife into the trash with a smile that seemed to imply that life went on. Even though it clearly didn't.

It made Foreman feel better somehow to see someone worse off than him.

And when he leaves Wilson's office, he's still picturing the look on her face when Wendy walked away.

* * *

**Pillbottle**

Cameron and Wilson were watching House from behind two different panes of glass. House took his Vicodin, the sixteenth and fifteenth pills of the day, and ignored both of them. He knew they were there, because people were reliable and predictable and utterly boring sometimes.

The air shattered between them as their eyes met. They recognized the care and the love, they saw the pure, unadulterated self-indulgent self-destruction of it all, but they would never make a move towards fixing each other. There was a contraindication in their caring natures, and a taint of jealousy transcended the brief moment when they each saw that the other cared more.

House will wonder, sometime in the perhaps, whether or not they will ever know how different they really are. They will always care too much to help him, too much to help even themselves, but somehow, that will never matter to any of them right now.

House shakes out number sixteen and a half and swallows it with a sudden grin that makes them both leave with their confident pretense-tious walks, and wonders why the broken ones are most satisfying.


End file.
